Amulet Page 13

  CHAPTER XIII.

  MARY VAN DE WERVE'S (NOW MADAME GERONIMO DEODATI) DEPARTURE FOR ITALY--THEPUNISHMENT OF SIMON TURCHI.

  It was six o'clock in the morning.

  The height of the sun indicated that the warm season of summer hadreplaced the mild month of May. It was apparently a festival day atAntwerp, for through all the gates people poured from the surroundingcountry into the city. The streets were filled with persons of all ages,who, talking and laughing, hastened to the centre of the city, as thoughthey anticipated some magnificent spectacle.

  Before Mr. Van de Werve's residence was a compact mass of citizens whoseemed impatient at the delay. Through a sentiment of respect, they wereperfectly quiet, speaking in very low tones, and making way to afford apassage through the crowd every time that a cavalier or any notablepersonage presented himself for admission into the house.

  The attraction to the centre of the city must have been very powerful, forthe greater part of those who passed neither stopped nor turned theirheads. Some approached, and learning upon inquiry as to the cause of thegathering, that Miss Van de Werve was about to leave for Italy, theyimmediately resumed their walk, as if the sight of this departure were noequivalent to the imposing spectacle they were going to witness. A few,however, remained in order to discover the real object of so large aconcourse of people.

  An old gray-headed peasant, after having listened to the conversationgoing on among the peasants, recognized in the crowd a man from his ownvillage, who had been residing for some time in the city, near the churchof Saint James, and who consequently, he thought, must be better informedthan the others in regard to Miss Van de Werve.

  He elbowed his way through the crowd until he reached his friend, struckhim on the shoulder, and said:

  "What is going on here, Master John, to collect such an assembly? I heardsome one say that Miss Van de Werve was about to leave for Italy."

  "Ah! Master Stephen," said the other, "call her Madame Geronimo Deodati."

  "Is she married?"

  "One would say, Master Stephen, that our village is at the other end ofthe world. Even the children of Antwerp bless this marriage as a strikingproof of God's justice."

  "I did hear, friend John, that God had visibly avenged virtue and punishedcrime. The assassin dies by a frightful death, and the victim becomes thehusband of the noblest and wealthiest young lady in the marquisate. Do youknow her, Master John?"

  "Do I know her? She passes my house twice every day in going to church. Ifurnish the family with bread, and I have frequent opportunities ofspeaking with this amiable young lady."

  "I would like to see her," said the old man, "but if I wait, I shallarrive too late at the public square."

  "You need not fear," replied Master John. "The executioner's car will notleave the prison for an hour to come."

  The peasant hesitated as to what he should do.

  "Are you sure that the young lady will leave at once?"

  "Immediately, Master Stephen. Mr. Van de Werve urges the departure--hewishes to be out of the city before the executioner commences his work."

  "Why," said the peasant, "did they wait until to-day? In their place Iwould have gone long ago."

  "Ah!" replied Master John, "here is another evidence of God's interventionin these terrible affairs. The vessel which bears them to Italy has beenready to sail for a week. During all that time the wind blew constantlyfrom the south-west; it changed to the east only last night, so that theirdeparture before was impossible. But the tide is high now and willcommence to ebb at the very hour fixed for the death of the assassin. Yousee that God himself willed Mr. Van de Werve to remain here until hisvengeance was accomplished."

  "Does she go to Italy to reside?"

  "Oh, no; she only goes on a wedding trip. She will return in the course ofa year, when the impression of the perfidy and cruelty of Simon Turchiwill be less painful. Back, back, Master Stephen, they are coming!"

  From the crowd arose a joyous shout. Each was anxious to approach MadameDeodati. Those who did not know her desired to see the noble young womanwhose name was so painfully connected with the bloody history of SimonTurchi, and who was esteemed a model of pure virtue, fervent piety, andideal beauty. The neighbors and those who had the honor of knowing hercollected in order to salute her, to bid her a respectful and cordialadieu, and to wish her a happy voyage.

  Mary Van de Werve, now Madame Geronimo Deodati, appeared at the dooraccompanied by her husband. As soon as the people perceived her, loud andlong acclamations greeted her; they waved their caps, clapped their hands,rent the air with their cries of joy, and strove to obtain a glance of theangelic features of the beautiful lady and the noble countenance of herhusband, who had been so miraculously preserved, by the providence of God,from the hands of his cruel enemy, Simon Turchi.

  Mr. Van de Werve walked by his daughter's side; the old Deodati was nearhis beloved nephew Geronimo. Then followed Mary's two married brothers anda large number of her father's near relatives and friends, as well as manyItalians, Portuguese, and Spaniards, who wished to escort Geronimo to theship.

  When Mary heard the benedictions and joyous shouts of the people, and sawall eyes fixed upon her with looks of love, the blood mantled to hercheeks, and she modestly cast down her eyes. But immediately raising them,she saluted the crowd as a mark of her gratitude for their kindness. Themultitude, at a sign from Mr. Van de Werve, opened a passage for theparty, and they proceeded to the Scheldt amid acclamations testifying thelove and respect they inspired. Their drive resembled a triumphalprocession. The old Deodati was deeply moved. He seemed rejuvenated. Asweet smile was upon his lips, and he looked proudly upon Geronimo. Thusfull of the thought of their future happiness, they reached the dock-yard.In the middle of the Scheldt was the _Il Salvatore_, decked with flags androcking upon the waves as if conscious of the precious treasure about tobe confided to it.

  A part of the sailors were occupied in unmooring the vessel; even theharsh grating sound of the capstan could be heard on the wharf. The restof the crew manned the masts, and they waved their caps in the air,shouting:

  "_Benvenuto! benvenuto! Viva, viva la nostra signora!_"

  At the same time the sound of five or six cannon from the _Il Salvatore_boomed over the waters, prolonged by the echoes from either side as itfloated down the river. The multitude replied by three cheers, and thelast reverberation of the cannon was lost in the _vivas_ of those on theshore and ships.

  In the meantime parents and friends were bidding adieu. Many tears wereshed, and it was with tearful eyes that Mary Van de Werve received uponher brow her brothers' kiss.

  The _Il Salvatore_ weighed anchor; the sails caught the wind, and thevessel floated majestically down the river with the tide.

  Mr. Van de Werve, Deodati, and their two happy children, entered the barkwhich awaited them. Petronilla seated herself beside her mistress. Theyexchanged a last adieu, and the eight oars fell simultaneously in thewater. The bark, under the strokes of the robust oarsmen, cut the waves ina rapid course.

  At this moment Geronimo's eyes were filled with tears. Lifting his eyes toheaven, he said:

  "Blessed be Thou, my God, for all the sufferings Thou hast sent me;blessed be Thou for Thy infinite goodness. I thank Thee for the wife ithas pleased Thee to give me; she will be my companion in my much lovedcountry. A thousand thanks for all Thy benefits!"

  The bark had reached the galley. A ladder was lowered, and, aided by thesailors, the party ascended the deck. The pilot gave the signal, the sailswere unfurled, the ship rocked for a moment as if courting the breeze,and then it rapidly cleaved the waves.

  The cannon again boomed from the _Il Salvatore_, and again theacclamations of the crowd rent the air.

  * * * * *

  The sounds had hardly died away when the spectators, as if impelled by onethought, immediately retired, and made all speed to reach the central partof the city.

  The crowd which left the wharf so precipit
ately soon arrived at the grandsquare, but they found it already occupied by so compact a mass of humanbeings, that it was impossible for them to penetrate it. As far as the eyecould reach, there was a sea of heads; all the windows were crowded withwomen and even children; the roofs swarmed with curious spectators; theiron balustrades seemed to bend under the weight of the children who hadclimbed upon them.

  A solemn silence reigned in the midst of the vast multitude. Not a soundwas heard save the slow and mournful tolling of the death-bell, and atintervals a scream so piercing, so frightful, that those who listened toit turned pale and trembled. Every eye was fixed upon a particular spot,whence clouds of smoke curled in the air, and from which escaped the criesof distress.

  What passed that day on the grand square of Antwerp is thus related byMatthew Bandello, Bishop of Agen, who lived at that period, and who wrotefrom the testimony of an eye-witness:

  * * * * *

  "Upon the appointed day, Simon Turchi was enclosed in the same chair anddriven on a wagon through the streets of Antwerp, the good priestaccompanying him and exhorting him. When they reached the grand square,the chair was removed from the wagon. The executioners lighted a slowfire, which they kept alive with wood, but in such a manner that theflames should not rise too high, but sufficed to roast slowly the unhappyTurchi. The priest remained as near to him as the heat permitted, andfrequently said to him:

  "'Simon, this is the hour for repentance!'

  "And Simon, as long as he could speak, replied:

  "'Yes, father.'"

  * * * * *

  Simon Turchi evinced great repentance and much patience, and he acceptedwith resignation the painful and infamous death to which he was condemned.When it was certain that he was dead, his body, partially consumed, wasconveyed outside the city gates and attached to a stake by an iron chain.The dagger with which he had stabbed Geronimo was thrust into his side.The stake was so placed on the public road that it could be seen by allwho passed, in order that the punishment inflicted for murder might serveas a warning to others, and prevent the commission of infamous crimes.

  THE END.